Little Dark Secrets
by CHJ
Summary: AU. Dean is fifteen years old and has questions. He wants to know who his father is and why he's not around. He wants to know why his mother won't talk about him. Mostly he wants to know why there seems to be something everybody is keeping from him
1. Introduction

_Any real fan of the show knows Eric Kripke owns Supernatural and all it's characters and worlds and yadda yadda, I'm simply borrowing them to satisfy my own random plot ideas._

* * *

My name is Dean Winchester. 

Junior.

Not technically, because apparently my fathers middle name wasn't Michael, but the fact of the matter is I'm not the first Dean Winchester to ever come around. I never met the first one, though. I probably wouldn't even know he exists if it didn't, ya know, take two to tango. My mom doesn't talk about him much. I don't think they were married. She has his last name, but I don't think they ever tied the metaphorical knot.

There'd be more pictures.

And she'd have a ring.

Everybody knows him, however. They know my mom, too, but seeing as how I've seen them actually speak to her, you can see where this connection wouldn't confuse me as much. One look from my mom always tell them to stop when they start talking about him, though. I don't – and sorely want to – know why. It's always just been my mom and me; team supreme. We live on the outskirts of a small town, where she runs a small tavern. She seems to only cater to hunters, which has always confused me because they come through even when it's not hunting season, but they always light up when they see my mom because she's never short on stories. They like me, too, but too often am I sent to "play" for me to really think they're coming 'cause of me.

I've got two uncles; Uncle Elliot and Uncle Sam. I don't see Uncle Elliot much. He used to come around when I was younger, but then he got married and finished school and now he's a doctor. After that he stopped coming around; mom says it's better that way. Uncle Sam, though, he comes to visit once a week, at least. He's always got a joke for me, some piece of advice, or something. Sometimes he stays the night, and sometimes he only stops in for an hour or so. Every single time, though, mom gives him something to eat. It don't matter if it's late at night or right after she finished washing the dishes. Sometimes he seems real tired, and sometimes he's injured; mom takes good care of him then. I asked him what he did for a job once, and he just said "this and that". Mom says I get my height from him and my daddy; I beat her out by five inches.

Anyhow, that's really all just backstory. Facts of the matter is that in all my fifteen years, no one has told me why my dad isn't around. They've told me he was brave, and they told me he was a great man, but they never once said why he left me and mom alone. She says I look like him; I have his eyes and quick wit, apparently. But if he's so great, why isn't he here? And why won't people talk about him? All I have is one picture. One measly picture of him by the car Uncle Sam drives, a big black impala that's old and creaks when the doors open and was huge when I was younger and the backseat almost swallowed me….but I digress.

My one goal in life is to figure out who my father was. Funny thing is, that goal is taking me places I never thought I'd go.

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_Just the first chapter. Leave a comment._


	2. Then Came the Last Days of May

I remember when I was about five years old I asked my mom about my dad. I remember it clearly. She stopped wiping out the mug she'd been scrubbing and completely froze. Her knuckles went white as she gripped the side of sink, and after what felt like ages she turned and looked at me.  
"Dean," She'd said.

And that's it.

That's all she'd said because then a customer came in and even though it was Jim Wallace, the same guy that always came in and basically didn't need help because he was practically a fixture of the place himself, she just _had_ to help.

That night was the first night I'd ever heard her cry.

I knew then not to ask about Dean Winchester.

I lived without knowing a decade longer, and then one night I heard raised voices coming from the kitchen of the small apartment we had outside the tavern. I crept out of bed, curiousity getting the better of me even if I was fully aware of the dead cat, and found with only a small amount of surprise Uncle Sam standing there with my mother, who was looking at him with an expression I couldn't read.  
"It could work, Chase. It would bring him back! Out of hell! Dean would have a father, I'd have a brother, you'd…… He'd be _back_."  
My mother just shook her head, turning away from him to lean on the counter and I watched the scene play out like a movie I'd waited ages to see.  
Finally she turned back. "I have finally made peace with the fact that he's gone. Fifteen years, and I've finally made peace with that. Go out and raise the dead if you need to, but please don't take that away from me unless you're damned sure it'll work."  
She cast a glance my way and I backed up into the shadows, trying not to be seen. The voices grew softer then, and I couldn't make them out, but after a few more minutes my uncle was leaving and with him was the one chance I had of finding out who my father was and why his whole life was shrouded in mystery.

Naturally, I slid out of my hiding spot and ran out the front door after him.

"Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam!" I called, barefeet slapping the gravel under me but I didn't care. He stopped and turned back to look at me, not looking all that shocked to see me run outside after him, not wearing anything but my boxers and a t-shirt.  
"You know where to find my dad?"  
He nodded.  
"Then take me with you."  
There was a pause, and then he just shook his head. "Your mom wouldn't be too happy if you came with me."  
"Well, screw that. I want to know my father, and she's not helping. I'm going to find out about him one way or another, whether she likes it or not." I said, the pent up frustration spilling out of me. I glanced at my feet and then back up at my uncle. "But I can't do it alone."  
He gave me a funny look. "Yes you can." He said, and the way he said it was if he was expecting a certain response.  
I shook my head. "No I can't."  
Sam just laughed, raising a hand to rub his eyes, and then held it there. When he finally lowered it, he gave me a hard look. I just stood there, holding my breath, hoping he would help me. Hoping, _hoping,_ I'd finally found someone to give me some kind of connection to the man I descended from, and when he spoke, I knew whatever God there was had answered a prayer.  
"Go get your things."


	3. The Red and the Black

I don't think my mom ever forgave me for leaving that night.

Don't worry, she's still speaking to me (I AM still a teenager, here, so she kinda has to), but I don't think she'll ever forgive my Uncle Sam, either. See, the scene that followed the approval of my departure with my Uncle was also one of the worst confrontations I've ever had with her. She, it pretty much goes without saying (yet here I am saying it) didn't want me to go.

Without giving you the gory details involving the 'he said, she said', I'll simply give you the abridged version:  
Mother says I'm forbidden to leave.  
I say something like bite me (though I'm not stupid enough to say exactly that to her face…..she'd kill me)  
She tells me I'm taking a path I don't fully understand.  
I tell her to explain it then.  
"Your father isn't with us anymore, Dean." I scoffed at her words, thinking it an understatement. "Not with us as in no longer here on Earth."

If that doesn't kill a boyhood dream of meeting my dad, then I don't know what does…….and that's how I ended up in the impala next to my uncle, driving off. I didn't want to believe he was dead. I _couldn't_ believe Dean Winchester Sr. was dead.

--

I don't mean to give you a bad image of my mother, I truly don't. She's a strong woman, does what her mind is set to do, but I've known her my whole life. My father…..well, if I'm going by the image they gave me when I was a kid, seemed like a knight. One of the ones from King Arthur, ya know? Ones that slayed dragons and stuff.

Or maybe I made that up.

A kid has to have _some_ allusions about a departed parent.

Point is, I _haven't_ known him my whole life, and now it didn't seem much like I would….except I remember all too well the strange conversation that happened between my mother and uncle. I hadn't thought much on it before, but spending two long days just sitting in the front seat with only music softly playing for background effect to entertain….well, you start thinking to keep yourself amused.

(and none of the music had been made after the 70's. Come _on_. Seriously, Uncle Sam)

What stuck out for me was how Sam kept calling my mom Chase. Her name is Diane….whats this Chase crap? That's a dude's name. Not the point, but I was bored; you notice these things.

Anyhow, next strange point: my mother mentioned raising the dead. At first I'd thought she'd meant bringing up the past, ya know? But after she told me he was dead, I began to wonder. There was just so much that had been kept from me I felt like I was beginning to go insane.

"How'd my dad die?" I asked, breaking the silence.  
My uncle shifted in his seat. "His life was taken from him."  
"So he was murdered?"  
"Something like that."  
I pondered this for only a second. "So….then what are we doing?"  
Sam just looked over at me, and pressed his foot harder on the gas.

* * *


	4. Welcome to My Nightmare

* * *

Have you ever had an out of body experience? You know, one of those moments when you see or do something you never thought you'd ever see or do and it's like you're watching yourself move but it couldn't possibly be you? 

The fourth night I was with my uncle was like that.

Have you ever seen someone who's possessed?

I have.

Now I wish I hadn't.

It all started on the beginning of the third day with Uncle Sam (anybody else getting the idea he should be dressed in Red, White, and Blue?...just me?...okay……). We were in a motel, the third one in seventy two hours, and it was about six am. I was awake, mainly due to my uncle, and was sitting and staring.

I'd seen a lot of strange things surrounding my uncle. Firstly, I'd never realized just how many weapons he owned, nor had I realized that he always seemed to have a very worn and beaten brown journal with him. And while those weren't entirely weird on their own, them mixed with the fact that he didn't seem to have a house, or a job all kinda made me incredibly suspicious.

Naturally, I confronted him. I mean, already had a go around with my mom, right? Not much more here to lose.

He was just coming out of the bathroom, having freshly shaved and dressed, and I stood up, striding over to him. I was tall, six feet, but he was about six four, and that still beat me. This means, then, that when I stood in front of him, I didn't feel quite as full of self right as I had when I'd been sitting there planning it.

No going back now, though. "Who are you?" I demanded.  
"Sam Winchester. Who are you?"  
I frowned; sometimes I thought my uncle truly didn't get it.  
"That's not what I meant. I mean, what do you _do_? Nobody lives on the road, owning nothing but a chevy and some guns. Where are we going?"My uncle took a seat on one of the beds, beginning to pull his steel toed boots on.  
"I know what you meant," He said. All right, so maybe he did get it.  
I waited, and when he didn't elaborate, "Well?"  
He looked up at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your mother doesn't want you to know, and I don't blame her." He stood up, walking to the dresser to grab his watch. "Once you lose that kind of innocence, you don't get it back."  
I frowned, completely annoyed by the response. "So if you're not going to tell me, then why bring me along?"  
"Because I know how you feel." He said, gathering the few items we had brought and throwing them in a duffel bag. "I was always kind of rebellious as a kid myself."  
He glanced at me, standing where I'd first confronted him, hands on my hips, two feet planted firmly on the ground. I was wearing the same sort of outfit I always wore; jeans, t-shirt, boots, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled part way up. I had a really old brown leather jacket I'd worn since I was big enough that it wouldn't swallow me, but it was thrown over the back of a chair. I'm not sure where the jacket came from, I'd found it in a closet in my mothers room when I was six and she'd let me keep it.  
Sam laughed, looking at my defiant expression, and I frowned all the harder. "What?"  
"Nothing," He said, shaking his head. "I was just thinking you looked a lot like the Dean Winchester I knew."  
I looked down, reminded of the fact that I would never know that man, and Uncle Sam stood up, grabbing his own jacket.  
"So I'm not going to tell you what I do, I'm going to show you. Your mother can't get mad at me then." He said, giving me a smile, and then we left that motel.

* * *

We spent the whole day driving, and then by late evening we arrived in Liberty, Montana. 

That's when shit started hitting the fan.

First thing my uncle did was show me a newspaper clipping about a girl and her troubles. It was dated the day before, but the article described how she was having hallucinations and terrors and seeing as how, at the time, I didn't know better, I could sworn this girl had just seen Exorcism of Emily Rose one too many times.

I don't know how Sam knew, but he did. He knew, even though the girl (Melinda) seemed, by rights, to be normal. He knew she was possessed, and she knew he knew. So after brief moments of pretending we were psychologists (and what was up with that? My uncle lied so easily…..it made me question virtually everything he'd ever told me), and her pretending to be the kind hostess (did I mention she was twenty eight and living on her own and now claiming she was simply epileptic and not yet diagnosed.

I was willing to buy this reason, myself. I mean, what reason did I have not to? I was no doctor, and for all I knew about epilepsy it was a complete lie, but it surely _seemed_ plausible.

But then she attacked my uncle as he referred to Jesus Christ, and I'm ashamed to admit, I froze. The woman had completely changed. She was no longer the petite, sweet young woman I'd just met. Her features had mutated into a grotesque mask of fury and hate and it was all directed at my uncle.

"Dean! Holy Water!"

My uncle's voice rang out and echoed through the room and it triggered me into action. I helped him subdue the young woman enough to tie her to a chair and immediately Sam began to speak in Latin. I couldn't have told you what he was saying, and in some ways, not sure I want to know. What I do know is in the middle of it he ordered me out of the room and I went, for once, without argument.

* * *

_If anyone is interested, Gavin Rossdale's song Can't Stop the World kinda reminds me of lil' Dean here. You can listen to it at youtube, just type it in and it'll be the first one to pop up. It's a black screen and just plays the song. It's not completely like him, but I figure I'd give you guys background music if nothing else:p_

_Also, not to be a bother, but could you guys drop me a review? I'd like feedback of any kind to kind of gauge what people think of the story thus far and whatnot. Please and thanks._


	5. Career of Evil

_I'd like to thank anybody who and everybody who reviewed...you guys encourage me. Keep 'em coming._

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As soon as I got out of that house I threw up. I can admit this only because you're not Parker James, the bully down the street who made fun of every little less than manly thing I did. I'd like to see him take on a possessed person and still be all high and mighty….. 

Anyway.

After blowing the groceries, if you will, in Melinda's front lawn, I sat down and went numb. The things I had heard that woman say chilled me to the bone. She'd said there was no God (not that my mother and I had ever really gone to church, but still, it's kinda nice to think someone upstairs is watchin' out for ya), and then she'd said they'd be coming for me.

Me.

_Me_.

Who were 'they'?

That's when I'd been ordered out of the house. I told you I went obligingly, and now hopefully you don't think me a complete coward for running out like a scalded dog with tail tucked firmly between my legs. I hoped never to see anything like that again because I had this feeling like…..like I'd never feel okay again.

I hated that.

I kinda wanted my mom.

Uuuuuuh, forget I said that.

My uncle came out about, oh FOREVER, later and he didn't say anything, just took a seat on the grass next to me.  
"You okay?" He asked after awhile and I nodded.  
"Fine." I replied. I wasn't, but…..well, let's not rehash. "What was that back there? What happened? What did she mean? Who's coming for me? Why?"  
I had so many questions, and mainly? I was asking them now to cover up the strange feeling I had.  
"One question at a time, dear."  
"Huh?"  
Sam shook his head, that same expression as if I should know what he was talking about on his face again. "Nothing." He looked out at the setting sun, casting the whole place into splashes of orange and red. "How much do you know about your father and mother?"  
"Uh…..yeah, nothing. Just they both have a younger brother. I don't even know if they were the same age."

I had often wondered why my mother never spoke about my father. When my mind was still innocent and filled with Sesame Street and whether or not Santa Claus was watching, I always figured it was because it made my mother really sad. But as I got older I started to believe I was a product of a one night stand, and the reason she didn't talk about him was because she plain didn't know. It wasn't the best thought ever, but it made sense.

Hell, it told me why she didn't want me to know a thing about him; maybe it was a bad memory.

"Your mother and father had quite a bit in common; probably a bit too much." Sam said, still looking out at the quickly turning pitch black world. He turned to look at me. "Sure make this easier if you knew exactly how much."  
"Did they love each other?" I asked my uncle, realizing it was a question I really wanted to know.  
He shrugged. "Now that you'll have to ask your mother."  
I looked down, and then back up at my uncle; parent revelations aside, I still wanted to know what the hell – er, no pun intended – went on back there.  
"What happened in there?"  
"That was a woman possessed. She's all right now, though. Resting. We'll stay until she's recovered completely."  
"Yeah yeah, I kinda got that from the Exorcist act she pulled. I want to know how you know about it."  
Uncle Sam looked straight at me. "It's kinda what I do. Your father and mother did it, too. Even your uncle Elliot for a very brief amount of time."  
I frowned, confused. "Great, thanks. That laid it all out flat for me." I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.  
Sam laughed. "You're way to much like your parents." He shifted his weight. "Hunting, I guess, is the best way to describe it. Demons and pissed off spirits, mostly, but sometimes wendigos and werewolves, the occasional vampire."  
I looked up at my uncle, giving him the most bizarre look I could muster. "So where's the jumpsuit?" I cracked, waiting – but knowing better – for the punchline. People didn't hunt demons. They just didn't.  
"In my other car." Sam replied without blinking. I guess he got Ghostbusters jokes a lot.  
I shook my head; I really just didn't know how to take this.

Personally, I thought I was doing well considering I was still quite calmly sitting next to the man.

"You said my mom did this, though? Heh, you're crazed. My moms never been anything more than a bar keeper." I think, I added to myself.  
"She ever tell you how she met your father?" My uncle asked me, and I had to admit the answer was no. A bar seemed likely, however. Maybe even a club. I could just imagine my mom drinking and swaying to the music, and my dad, being the aforementioned knight in shining armor probably took care of her, a romance bloomed, yadda yadda……

Okay, I just made that up right now.

"All right, all right. For the sake of argument, lets say you, my dad, mom, other uncle, whatever, did all this hunting jazz," I said, moving my hands along with my words to emphasize my 'but I'm still calling this ludicrous' attitude. "Why? What does it have to do with our family? Why do you still do it? And why doesn't my mom do it anymore?"  
"Why can't you ever ask one question?"  
"Why can't you ever give me a straight answer?"  
"Touche." Uncle Sam laughed. "I do it because…..well,your dad used to call it the 'family business'. He had hoped you wouldn't get into it, though."  
"Little late." I said glumly, my feelings on the matter still all too real.  
My uncle nodded. "Why we do it is…..is a story for another time."  
"Fine, but don't think I won't bring this up again."  
Sam threw his hands up defensively. "I would do no such thing."  
We sat there a few minutes in silence and then, "Is my dad really in hell?"  
Sam simply nodded and I gulped.  
"Story for another time?"  
My uncle shook his head. "No. We're breaking him out." He looked down at me. "We've got work to do."


	6. This Ain't the Summer of Love

_Hi, guys! Sorry this has taken so long - I truly didn't mean it to but life got ahead of me, and I had tests to study for. College; it'll bite ya. Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it in answering some questions, and as always, please review! It keeps me motivated._

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You might recall I mentioned that I was told things were after me. You might also remember Sam didn't really answer the question and I, dealing with my various issues, didn't notice. For awhile it wasn't really a bother. But days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. I won't tell you I'm an expert in hunting, but it only took a week at the job to realize that everything wants my head on a platter.

Don't worry, I'm not a child of destiny or anything. I just have two very infamous parents.

Ya see, supernatural things? They're pissy. They hold grudges and more than anything, they'll want revenge. My dad's dead, my mom has all but fallen off the grid (and boy is that a story, let me tell you), so that leaves one living relative to exact pain and suffering on.

Me.

Oh, it makes me excited just talking about it.

That's sarcasm.

Anyway….

It's been a month now since I've been on the road with my uncle, and in that amount of time I've picked up on a lot of details. Did you know, for instance, that stakes don't really kill vampires, and crosses just make them laugh? Yeah, I know. Last time I get all MY monster information from tv.

By this time I've discovered important facts like that, and rise and fall, I've seen it all. Gypsies using their magic to get back at men who scorned them, zombies chewing off somones arm, big scary reapers without their hoods. I followed my uncle faithfully simply because……well, because I felt connected to my father. And anyway, my uncle gets beat up a lot – spirits have a thing about choking him – so I kinda feel like it's my duty to watch out for him, keep his ass alive.

But even after all that, there's still so much I don't know. How did my father die and why? Why did my mother not tell me he was dead? Why didn't she tell me about their lifestyles in general? Why didn't my uncles? Why did they hunt? Why did Sam call my mom Chase when her name is Diane? Why did they hunt?

And I even want to know the little details, like how my parents met, why my grandparents weren't around, did they love each other, how long had they known each other……just on and on.

I expressed this thought to Sam, and that's how I ended up standing right outside my front door, staring at the pub my mother owned and trying to make myself walk towards it but having a very great amount of difficulty. Sam was behind me, getting things out of the car, and when he walked up to stand beside me my mother exited the house.

She had a strange expression on her face, one I'd never seen before. It was one of relief, anger, and a very good deal of, um, uncertainty, maybe? She half ran, half walked towards me and enveloped me in a hug, and just when I thought I couldn't breathe anymore she let go and walked over to Sam, and slapped him.

No, you read right. Slap.

Hard, too, it looked like.

And you know what he did about it?

Nothing.

In fact, I think he mighta grinned. Probably expected it or something, I don't know."How could you take him out like that, Sam? You KNOW why we never told him." My mother was demanding of my uncle."Well, Chasey, he had a right to know," My uncle replied, pulling her away and towards the house.I followed, curious to see how this was going to play out.

In a word? Boring.

The events of the passed month seemed to be forgotten while we ate dinner (my first home cooked meal in a month. It kinda surprised me how much I would miss it), and then after brief chats with my uncle about the things the various (and I was right in calling them such) hunters who came through the bar had to say, my uncle turned in, leaving my mom and me alone.

She washed the dishes and I sat at our kitchen table uncomfortably. I had a lot to ask her, but now I just…I just wasn't sure how to go about it. I mean, it's not everyday I've had to think about how to ask my mom how she met my father and why she kept his entire legacy a secret.

Well, it _is_, but that's so not the point.

"Did you have a nice time with your uncle?" My mother broke the silence instead, and I nodded. Not that she could see that, since her back was to me.  
"Yeah. Discovering everything in this world wants to kill you because of the sins of your parents is always a fun time."

If you're wondering, I didn't mean my response to have that much bite.

"Mmm." My mother said in response, as if I'd just told her Mickey Mickerson has the coolest marbles, and gee golly, could I get some?!

"Why didn't you tell me what you and dad did? Why did you wait til I was leaving with Uncle Sam to tell me dad was dead?"

My mother turned around and looked me dead in the eye. She set the dish she'd been scrubbing down and came and sat across from me and for the first time I realized just how tired she looked. Old, worn, probably seen more than anybody ever should. Made sense, now that I knew what she'd spent her youth doing.

"Did your uncle tell you why your father died?" She asked me, hands folded in front of herself on the table.  
I shrugged. "He said he was killed."  
My mother nodded. "He knew that was coming, too. Long before you were around. Now, your father and I…." She trailed off here, as if she wasn't entirely sure how to put this. "We had our differences, but we both agreed on one thing: that we wouldn't tell you about our life."  
"Why the hell not?" I blurted and for a second thought she was gonna smack me for cussing like that.

Luckily, she didn't. Instead, she looked down and then up at me. "Do you feel safe, Dean?"

I frowned, the question catching me by surprise. How did that matter? It didn't. Not really. And yet….when I thought about it, I really didn't. I felt like every bad thing I'd ever had a nightmare about was right outside waiting to catch me off my guard.  
"No," I finally replied, and my mother nodded.  
"Exactly," She said. "When you lose the innocence of being ignorant to the supernatural world, there's no way to get it back and your father and I….we didn't want you to lose that."

I just looked at my mother, unsure how to react. It seemed noble but I – I still kinda felt like I should have been told. Maybe I would have felt better if she'd still told me some happy little tale about my father being a fisherman instead of just not saying anything, but then, of course, I'd probably be sitting here bitching about how she'd lied to me instead of keeping her silence.

A few moments of silence pass between us as this fully sinks in and then, "Did you love him?"

An unreadable expression crosses my mothers face and just when I'm on the brink of thinking she's either going to tell me I'm the leftovers of a drunken one night stand, or two people caught in the throes of passion, there's a loud bang from outside, almost like gunfire, and immediately run outside to find Uncle Sam, pinning someone up against the impala.


	7. Goin' Through the Motions

I've never seen my uncle angry. Annoyed when I was more interested in the waitress then lore on vampires, agitated when he was trying to do something and I was plugging him for the aforementioned lore later, but never this enraged.

"You said you could help us! How DARE you show up again!"

I stepped forward, trying to see who was being pinned to the car, and all I could make out was a flash of blonde hair before my mother stepped in front of me. Now, I was taller than her and could easily see over her head, but then my eyes went down to frown at her and how annoying it was to be protected given what I now knew.

"Stay back, Dean. Just because you now know about the supernatural doesn't mean you're a hunter." My mother told me, as if reading my thoughts.

Damn.

"Hey, back off, Sparky! There were complications!"

A female voice rang out in the night. I certainly didn't recognize it, and it wasn't any of the neighbors nearby. Sam backed up up as if shoved back gruffly and I could see now that who he'd been pinning to the impala was a young blonde woman. I glanced at my mother, but there were no signs of recognition on her face.

"I don't care, Ruby. I trusted you!" My uncle shouted, his voice much deeper when he was angry. But Ruby's attention wasn't on my uncle Sam's words.

Her attention was on me.

"So it's true what they've been saying. The oldest Winchester did have a kid," She said, a slight grin falling on her face as she stepped forward. "He has his fathers eyes." In front of me my mother stiffened – not unlike a cat before pouncing – and Ruby looked at her.

"Don't worry, Mama Bear, I'm not going to hurt him."

But my mother didn't move, so I did. I stepped out from behind her, towards Ruby. Curiousity always wins the battle with me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm the girl that saved your uncle's ass." She said, glancing back at him as if this was a great joke, but he didn't grin, and though I couldn't see her, I was pretty sure my mother didn't, either.

As for me, I didn't catch the reference, so humor was lost on me. Avoidance of the question, however, actually wasn't.

"All right, then who's the girl that saved my uncle's ass?"

Ruby grinned again, and she inclined her head, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again they were jet black. I might not be an expert hunter, but I'd seen jet black eyes before; I knew what it meant. I wasn't too hip on the idea of seeing them again so soon. I backed up without thinking too, and actually crashed into my mother, who grabbed my arm to steady me before stepping in front of me.

"Why are you here?" She asked Ruby, her voice neither accusing nor angry. It wasn't sympathetic, either.

"As I was trying to telling Sammy over here before he so rudely slammed me into the car" – here she straightened her jacket and popped her neck – "I think I know how he can get his dear brother out of hell."

I started, immediately deciding I loved this new woman no matter what, but I learned a long time ago that Diane Winchester was a very hard woman to bargain with, and one simple announcement from Ruby didn't seem to sway her.

"How?" She asked, as if we were discussing the proper way to scrub a dish.

Ruby glanced at Sam. "Make sure sasquatch doesn't slam me into anymore cars, and I'll be happy to tell you."

"He won't." I piped up, desperate, and as Ruby grinned and my uncle frowned, my mother just gave me a look that told me I had no idea what I had just gotten us into.


	8. Feel the Thunder

Ruby, to say the least, was an interesting addition. My mother refused to let her in the house, and she claimed not wanting to stay even if they paid her, so she….. Well, in entire honesty, I have no idea where she went. She showed up from time to time, though, stopping in and helping me with different things.

Well, I say helping, but it was more criticizing the way Sam taught me things and how my mother never did.

"Its just like them to be cautious. But you can't protect yourself if you don't know, Junior."  
"Argh! Don't call me that!"  
We were outside, working on shooting, of all things. Ruby said my aim sucked.  
"Does 'lame ass' suit you better?"  
"Shut up."

Ruby fixed me with a grin and then nodded, indicating I take aim and fire again.

I did.

I got a bullseye.

Eat that, Ruby Nolastname!

"Not bad, but you could do better."  
"How can you do better than a bullseye?!"  
"By not looking so surprised when you actually hit the target."

And things progressed pretty much that way. When Ruby showed up, we'd go through different hunter related things – occasionally she would even quiz me on different things – and then she'd leave. She never told me more than I needed to know (like how she knows my uncle and parents, why a demon gives a damn (er, no pun intended), or even anything about Hell). She mighta had an unspoken agreement with my mother not to say anything, though, for all I know.

Slowly, a year passed (making me sixteen years old for all you cool cats out there actually listening to this dreary tale). I barely saw my uncle Sam in that entire time, but I was so wrapped up in working with Ruby and now actually speaking to the other hunters that came into the bar, that honestly? I didn't notice. I even went on a handful of hunts. At the time, I'd been under the impression that it was all on the sly, and my mother never knew.

She did.

Whoever said mothers know everything must have had a former huntress for a mother.

I never forgot my dad, of course.

Oh no, instead I just asked other hunters about him. Got told a lot of different stories, too. Did you know my dad always wanted to be a fireman? I didn't.

--

Did you know the reason he's dead now, the reason no one has mentioned him, the reason I have spent every damn day of my life holed up in a small bar with only my mother and a bunch of (and apparently I was right in calling them hunters) old men for company? I do. It took me sixteen years to figure out why every little facet in my life didn't add up, but I finally did it.

It was hard and a slow going getting my mother to speak. I guess when you've kept secrets practically your whole life, it's kinda hard to break down the protective barriers, ya know?

Irony is, she always taught me to be honest.

Maybe it's one of those 'because I learned the hard way' sort of things…..

Anyway.

Point being, we didn't sit down with hot cocoa and marshmallows, nestled under warm blankets by a fire and have a nice long discussion about her life and what all the little details were. No, actually, it was more that I would ask a question here or there, find out what was going on.

I became accustomed to this way of life, and as the leaves began to turn oranges, reds, yellows, and all the other colors of autumn, I wondered where my uncle was. Halloween was just around the corner, and if all the disdainful opinions of all the other hunters was any judge, it wasn't what you would call a popular holiday.

I didn't have to wait long. The morning of October 30th he showed up at our door, through my bag of hunting gear at me, and told me to come: we were breaking Dean Winchester out of hell.


	9. Hot Rails to Hell

This chapter in the latest entry of the "Dean Winchester Files" (snazzy title, huh? Thought if it all by myself. Stop laughing) is just to bring you up to speed and to basically tell you exactly why I'm sitting in a grave yard ten minutes to midnight on October 31st.

It was a bit of a whirlwind, from Uncle Sam showing up, to Ruby showing up, to my mother declaring we were NOT going anywhere without her. As for me, _I_ wanted to know what the whole plan was.

That got them all yelling. From the bits I could pick up, the plan was to open a gate to Hell using a Colt (which I couldn't really figure out what was special about it, but whatever), and that, in theory, my dad would be able to claw his way out.

"Are you an idiot? That's a half cocked plan, and you'll just get yourself killed." Ruby informed Uncle Sam.  
"I don't see you claiming to have a better idea. Unlike last time." Sam shot at Ruby seethingly.  
"Nice. Turn this on me. I had a plan, but SOMEBODY decided to steal my knife instead, if you remember right." Ruby said, placing her hands on her hips.  
Sam gave a laugh devoid of real mirth. "Ya know, this time you showed up, you claimed to have a way of getting Dean out of Hell. Funny how you're not forthcoming with this information yet again."  
My mother looked between them, looking annoyed, a little confused, and….determined.

As for me, I'd been blocked out of this meeting of the minds. I sat at the small breakfast table in our miniscule kitchen as the three of them argued. I might have been sixteen at that point, but still basically a kid (to them. I prefer to think of myself as strong and masculine. No, really, stop laughing)

"The veil is thin on All Hallows Eve every year, what is so important about it being this year?"

I looked up after that question was voiced. Not really because it intrigued me, but because the yelling had ceased. Mostly because all three of them were looking at me.

Ruby was grinning, Uncle Sam had a grave expression, and my mother's eyes went wide and she walked over to me and then turned to look at the other two as if she was planning on playing the role of barricade.

"He was born to marked parents: that makes the kid stigmatized as well, not to mention the whole 'born out of wedlock' thing that's setting him up for trouble down the line." – Here, naturally, my shoulders drooped. I'd always known my parents hadn't been married, and God only knew that we weren't exactly the Partridge's, but that hadn't meant I'd stopped hoping.

Thank you for fully killing my dreams, Ruby. Thank you.

"Only evil freaks can open a portal to Hell." Ruby was saying, since I hadn't actually spoken. Though, I doubt anyone but me needed the explanation.  
"NO. NO. Dean made his choice. I am NOT risking our son just to get him out." My mother said, using 

her 'and that is so damned final don't even thinking about saying anything to the contrary' voice. She looked at Sam. "And you know that Dean wouldn't want it, either."

I stood up, so lost I thought my head might literally spin off of my shoulders.

"What do you _mean_ marked?" I said, looking between these three people. No one spoke. "What about this choice? Mom?"

I was about reaching breaking point. Everyone had taken that one moment to let invisible cats get their tongues.

"Goddammit, somebody speak!" I yelled, and though on most occasions this would have warranted probably something nearing a smack from my mom, she just looked up at me sharply, and then Ruby spoke.

"Not just anybody can open up a gate to Hell, kid. They have to really want to, and they have to be tainted in some way. You're two for two, hopscotch."

My eyebrows knit together. Hell (sorry, again, forgive the pun) if I knew what that meant. I was not going to believe I was tainted. That just made it sound like I was damaged goods.

"Anybody gonna elaborate on that?" I asked the silence that followed. I had no idea why we kept talking about Hell, and my possible evil heritage.

"Just before you were conceived Dean made a deal with the Devil. His soul, my life." Sam said. "It meant that though he wasn't evil, in the eyes of…." Sam stopped, shrugged, swallowed. I wasn't really sure I wanted to hear what came next. "God he was because his soul belonged to the ultimate sinner. As for your mother…" He trailed off, glanced at my mom, and then said. "Come on, we've gotta go."

"No, wait." I said, feeling like I couldn't really control the anger building in my stomach. Or the betrayal. "You said he was murdered." I said, the accusation clear in my voice. "You lied to me." I didn't yell it, I just said it.

"Dean." I felt my mother behind me, but I pushed her away. I furious at all of them. I glanced at the clock; time to go.

"I'll go. But only for my dad. Not for you."

It was a very silent car ride. No one dared speak, and I was becoming a boiling pot of hatred. That's what's lead me to this moment in the graveyard; my heart pounding and adrenaline starting to kick in.

The clock struck twelve a.m.

This was it.


	10. Madness to the Method

_As a warning, this chapter is pretty dark. It's the final chapter, and I wanted thing to go out with a bang, followed by plenty of whimpers. I'd like to thank all my fans, because this is the most popular story I've had as of yet. Thanks for reading; I enjoy writing and I'm glad someone out there likes to read my stuff._

_Kay, done being chick flicky on you. Without further ado..._

* * *

When I was about ten years old, someone once tried to break in to the bar and steal all the money. I remember this event because I remember how my mother handled it. I can clearly recall her not acting scared at all, while I was terrified, and she'd flat out kicked his ass. This had shocked me only because my mother had always taught me not to hit people, and violence wasn't the answer, and yadda yadda, and then it turns out she knew how to fight the whole time. Though I was still basically a kid, I had chalked it up to a burst of adrenaline, mostly (and no, I could have neither spelled it for you nor told you what it was). I mean, my mom? Fighter? Secretly a spy at night?

Naaaahhhh.

I'm wrong about a lot of things lately.

It was wrong to trust Ruby without full on knowing what she was capable of. I never met the man, but I'm pretty sure my father woulda been frowning at my jumping at the chance.

I stood up at the stroke of midnight to unleash all of Hell on the world for my father, and yet….I had doubts. We were in Wyoming in a cemetery I didn't even know the name of, the Colt feeling increasingly heavy in my hand, and all I could think was, what the fuck was I doing? Hell? I'd seen some pretty messed up things while hunting, yeah, but I was still scared shitless at the thought of a possessed woman, and I'd seen way too much evil to ever want to be the cause of all that pain. Besides all that, am I the only one who thinks it incredibly ludicrous that a portal to Hell isn't being guarded by nine kinds of protection and not just one measly door in a cemetery? Seriously.

"What are you waiting for, Junior? Open the door!" Ruby was hissing at me, Uncle Sam shooting similar questions. I was doubting what I was about to do. I felt as if time stood still and I don't know how long I stood there staring at that gun.

Finally, I glanced at my mother, the only who had remained silent since I'd paused. She just looked back, her expression blank as she watched me.

"How are you marked?" I asked, knowing it was the most inopportune time to mention it. I wanted to know, and somehow I felt that if I didn't ask how I might never know. Besides, my dad had waited years, was doing it now very important?

(on sidenote, yes. Midnight was apparently crucial to his getting out)

"My real name is Chase. Chase Jones. I never married you're father." She said, raising her voice as the cliché'd lightning began to flash and thunder rumbled in the background. "I'm wanted by the FBI," She yelled, offering it as explanation for the unasked question of why she'd always gone by Diane Winchester.

I laughed slightly at that. It was a secret revealed, but it didn't really seem monumental in the face of unleashing the fire and brimstone into America.

Still, my father. I'd come all this way.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door and without so much as a second thought, shoved the gun in.

I hadn't realized my eyes were squeezed shut until absolutely nothing happened. Well, it began raining, but that hardly counts.

Uncle Sam and Ruby ran up, the storm coming in quickly. "It didn't work!" I screamed, my fear replaced with frustration.

"That's because the old method has been used. It's probably going to take something much bigger." Ruby informed, and my Uncle shoved her.  
"Why didn't you mention that before?"  
"I wasn't sure!"  
"Then what are we going to do?" I asked in a hurry, my clothes now completely soaked.  
"A ritual." Ruby replied, and began to chant in Latin. I didn't know what she was saying, and a glance at Uncle Sam showed he didn't seem to be one hundred percent sure. That, or he was expert at making it look like he was clueless when he caught everything instead.

The rain began to pour harder and the thunder and lightning grew closer, causing such a ruckus I couldn't hear what Ruby was saying.

In hindsight, it didn't matter. I wish I'd never thought to try and save my father. He shouldn't have made his choice and I shouldn't have made mine. Someone always loses.

It's the Winchester way. I've learned that now.

As I stood there, clutching the knife and blinking away drops of rain, things began to move too fast for me to process, much less comprehend. I became aware of Ruby's hand over mine, and with a movement so swift it was more hers than mine, we swung backwards, the knife cutting through something very easily.

All at once there was a rumble, the earth feeling like it would open right under me, and the doors I was standing in front of opened. I threw my hands in front of my face instinctively and stepped backwards – only to trip over something.

Confused, I realized it was my mother's body.

It was her throat we'd cut through. Human sacrifice was the next step up.

I can't tell you how many emotions swirled through me at that moment. Shock, anguish, anger, pain. I felt sick and nauseus, but mostly hate. Hate so pure and fresh and real that I wanted to stand up and kill Ruby myself. Maybe even Sam.

I stood up, feeling nothing but the determination to end Ruby's life when a great commotion next to me caught my attention. Black smoke was billowing outward, and the storm was still raging, but through it all I saw him. My father. Dean Winchester.

"Dad?" I said, realizing then that my throat was completely dry. Somehow he must have heard me, because at that moment he turned and looked at me. He smiled and began to walk towards me.

Before he even reached me, someone else did. Don't ask who, because I don't know. The only thing that's real to me….the only thing I know now…is Hell. Whomever it was grabbed me, and pulled me into the fire and brimstone I'd been so terrified about unleashing. I'm stuck here, on a loop, repeating this story to anyone who will listen.

If you can hear me, please.

Save me.

_Fin._

_All right, so what did you think? Questions? Comments? I'd also like to know...what would you like to see next? A completely different AU story, or mayhaps a sequel to this? Perhaps a prequel? I don't really plan on doing a sequel, but if there's enough demand for it..._

_Drop me some feedback - let me know!_


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